Cold
by kfb28
Summary: A continuation of the ending of Walls and Hollows- Jon and Theon seek to avenge the North. Theon/Jeyne, Jon/Daenerys.
1. Chapter 1

"I crouch like a crow/ contrasting in the snow"

Blindsided- Bon Iver

King Jon Stark

The two palfreys cantered as one across the plains towards Highgarden, Ghost loping behind them. Theon rode tall on his bay stallion, betraying no hint of the torture he had endured at the hands of Ramsay Snow a few years past, but for his fingers. His muscle tone had returned, his endurance returned- Theon had returned.

Jon pondered the wretched creature he had found languishing in the dungeons. A white haired thing, being propped up by Jeyne Poole, who had been imprisoned with him when the fight broke out at Dreadfort.

Theon was now travelling with Jon to Highgarden to rouse the Tyrell family to Casterly Rock, in order to discuss plans to deal with Ramsay Snow's efforts to raise an army against Westeros and the powerful alliance which held it together. Jon thought of his young daughter, Violet. _Her hand will buy the Tyrells_, he though glumly. Daenerys was prepared to offer her hand, but Jon wasn't.

His daughter, Violet Stark, couldn't properly walk. She had babbled to Jon the morning he left Casterly Rock, her mother cradling the toddler. Jon couldn't imagine her liking boys, let alone marrying one. He was uncomfortable with the Tyrell proposal, but as Dany had pointed out, it was the one thing they could afford offer.

Theon had been silent most of the time, and Jon was grateful for that. They had both been humiliated at the council, the only two willing to go find Ramsay. Both men owed it to Robb, and the North, to find the Bastard and bring him home to answer for his crimes. There was nowhere he could hide where Jon would be unwilling to find him.

Lord Theon Greyjoy

They were almost upon Highgarden when Theon slowed his horse down. It was late, and they had been riding hard for a week straight. Theon ached from all the riding, clearly not quite recovered from his ordeal at Dreadfort. His muscles had come back, but his endurance had not. His hair was now a pale yellow instead of the straw it had once been. Jeyne had taken care of his wounds well enough, but every so often he would feel aches where they had supposedly healed.

_Ramsay will pay_, he thought bitterly, _he will pay for everything_. Theon had never hated anyone more then he hated Ramsay. All that had happened to Jeyne, to Reek, to Winterfell was connected to Roose's loose bastard.

Theon wanted Ramsay to die an agonizing death- the kind where you know the outcome weeks ahead, but you have no idea when it shall be granted to you. Theon was a Lord on the Iron Islands now, not that pathetic creature Reek, nor Theon Turncloak, nor Prince Theon of Winterfell. He could fight back now, and well.

The dreams were another matter- they found him late at night, when he was alone and vulnerable. He and Jeyne were used to waking each other with their nightmares of the same beast, but King Jon was not. They had started to take different rooms at the inns they had stayed at to avoid having to make eye contact after they were both up.

Jon turned to Theon, his horse walking beside the King's. They rode in uncomfortable silence, when the King spoke.

"We should find an inn." Theon nodded, distracted by the empty ring in his stomach. They hadn't eaten since dawn and Theon could feel it, though being hungry hadn't bothered him since Snow, in all truth.

Lord Commander Jon Snow

The Dreadfort had fallen much easier than it should have, though Jon wasn't complaining. Killing Roose had been easy, the horde of Freys, even easier. He would have spared Fat Walda and her babes, if Daenerys' Viserion had not gotten to their tower first. He and his men had explored the castle, save the dungeons. He had found no one who hadn't been burnt to the spot, and was beginning to regret his promise to Daenerys.

He couldn't change anything he had said to her though- he wanted to, but how many times had that happened in his life? He hoped he would find survivors in the dungeons at least, though according to all reports about the Boltons, they would be in miserable shape.

He descended down into the cold, wrapping his furs tighter around himself. The dungeons smelled awful, and were dank. He occasionally stepped on soft, fleshy things which he prayed weren't human. The further he travelled, the worse the smell which was now accompanied by the groans of half-dead prisoners.

Each cell revealed another hopeless cause, and Longclaw became a deep, crusted scarlet. Jon finally came to the last cell, which smelled the worst. He heard soft sobbing, and the dripping of a damp cloth. He gave Grenn the duty of guarding the door, and entered the room.

A nose-less girl looked up at him, her eyes stretched in fear, then relief when she saw him. He looked down beside her, at the old man on the ground. He looked at her again, mentally filling in where her nose had been, placing her familiar brown eyes outside of his memory, into the memory of Jon Snow, the bastard of Winterfell. Jeyne Poole looked up at him clutching the old man beside her.

"Jeyne?" he asked slowly, allowing the name to escape his lips. He had lived thus far believing all from his childhood to be dead- and now, he was blessedly wrong.

"Jon?" she choked the question out, her eyes swimming with tears. Jon realized she had been Arya- he supposed he should have been happy that she had escaped Ramsay, but disappointment settled in the pit of his stomach. He took his glove off, and put a hand out to touch Jeyne's forehead.

She leaned into his palm, her eyes imploring him to look at the wretch beside her.

Jon looked down at the miserable creature, nothing but skin stretched across bone, white hair dusting his shoulders. He knelt down to the man, and brushed a hand over the nose, touching a bump which reminded him again of Winterfell.

Lady Catelyn had banished him and Theon from a feast for the King when Theon was ten and Jon and Robb eight. Theon and Jon had started to practice their swordplay, unsupervised. Jon had hit his wooden blade upon the bridge on Theon's nose- the youth had always had a bump there since.

It was in the same place where the wretch's was, under Jon's thumb. Jon looked down, and whispered hoarsely, "Theon?"

Theon

He heard her sobbing against him and felt her warms tears on his chest. She had come down here when the dragon descended, and had wrapped him around her like a cloak. She, who had married him in the Godswood a week ago. _I want to know what it is to marry someone you care about_, she had whimpered to him. It was surely the work of the Gods that Ramsay had never found out, especially when Jeyne visited him so often.

Jeyne whispered against him after their "wedding" when she snuck down to visit him. She said she had drank Moon Tea every chance she had gotten- and that her womb hadn't quickened yet. She muttered about how hideous she thought Ramsay, how she didn't want to bear his children. Theon should have stopped her there, but she continued to tell him how she would rather a Kraken in her belly then a hide-less man.

She crouched over him now, as he lay on his back. Ramsay had lashed him a few times, so that he wouldn't fade from Theon's memory anytime soon. He would have died after that, if he hadn't defiantly chewed on the fact that Ramsay's wife loved him- though he used the term love loosely. Jeyne was just looking for an escape, someone to think about when Ramsay visited her.

Theon looked up at the ceiling, and let his eyes close. He prepared to die.


	2. Chapter 2

"**I could see for miles, miles, miles"**

"**Holocene" by Bon Iver**

**King Jon Stark**

He and Theon chose a small inn to sleep in for the night. It wasn't close to anything fancy, but it gave Jon the quiet comfort of being average- before a crown weighed heavily upon him. The mattress was of the average straw variety, the bedding of the average cloth variety- all so wonderfully bland.

Jon lay back, and closed his eyes imagining the time he and Robb and Theon had ridden out into a village by Winterfell and stayed the night in an old mill. He couldn't have been older then twelve, Theon fourteen, and it had been the one time he had felt like he shared blood with the two boys.

He pictured Robb's auburn hair, with cobwebs tangled within it leaning into the two other boys. They sat in a circle, and Robb solemnly said that one day he would need to go to war- and he needed his brothers at his side. Theon responded that he would- Bran would be their age before they knew it. Robb said not _that_ brother, but his _real_ brothers; not the brother by blood, but the brothers by arms.

King Jon held his left palm up, where he could see the silvery scar that ram across it- almost gone, but still there. This was the place where Robb and Theon had melded with him. _They carry me with them, and I carry them_. His brothers in arms.

Catelyn had hit him and Theon when they came home the next day, even though Robb had said it was all his idea, which was true. Lord Eddard walked in on Robb screaming at his mother for it, calling her things that Jon and Theon had always ached to say.

Jon wondered why Robb had legitimized him, his brother in arms who had left him for a wall. Jon thought it was the same reason he hadn't executed Theon- he was his brother not by blood, but because of all they had been through.

**Lord Theon Greyjoy**

Theon paced his room, wearing a pattern on the dusty floorboards. He felt caged and vulnerable, being away from people. He paused to look out the window at the fortress of Highgarden- a huge castle, yet somehow elegant and refined instead of cold and foreboding.

Theon ran his tongue over his false teeth, and his thumb over the portrait of his wife Jeyne, and his young son, Kaelan. The picture was already outdated, for they had added a daughter to their family a few moons ago- Fyfa, with eyes identical to her mother's. He had left his children on the steps of Casterly Rock in the arms of their mother. Kaelan had been crying softly, upset that his father was leaving. Fyfa had been sleeping, after keeping Jeyne up half the night with her squalling.

He missed his little family. He missed the way Kaelan smiled like Jeyne, how Fyfa smiled and how Jeyne would read his mind.

He also needed to avenge Robb, and redeem himself. Theon didn't like to think about what would happen to Jeyne if Ramsay found her, or what Ramsay would do to his children. Which was why Ramsay needed to be destroyed- he and Jon couldn't be the only ones blind to the danger of Snow.

Snow would fall upon them one day, his army crossing the narrow sea with the slavers and traders and traitors at his back. Theon felt a creeping in his belly, thinking of his next encounter with Ramsay- what Ramsay would do to him or what he would do to Ramsay.

Theon took his room key, and left his room. He heard the thud of the heavy lock, and turned to Jon's room. He knocked lightly, and Jon answered quickly. His King nodded, and let him inside. Theon looked around the plain room, before turning to face Jon, who had been rubbing his forehead.

"We need to go to King's Landing." Theon said, and Jon looked up at him. The King furrowed his brow, as Theon tapped his foot impatiently. Theon just wanted to face the bastard already, not sit here are wait for him to come upon them.

"Why would we go?"

The question hung between them awkwardly, and Theon inhaled and gathered his thoughts.

"We want to be ready. Ramsay won't strike at Casterly Rock first, he will strike at the capital. He isn't scared of us- any of us. He doesn't see the wisdom in winning battles, he just wants to win the war. That is how we will defeat him." Theon hadn't breathed during his speech, and gulped down air after it. Jon nodded slowly.

"We can use his impatience against him." Jon stood up from his bed, and turned to look out the window. Theon watched him, following his every move. Jon turned towards Theon when he reached the window, looking out upon Highgarden.

"Tomorrow, we ride past Highgarden, and on to the capital. From there, we rebuild the navy." Theon bowed his head, and said "My King".

Jon looked back at him forlornly, before he replied.

"No, my brother."

**Theon Turncloak**

He felt her curled against him, clinging to him gently. He appreciated the warmth, and leaned into it under their blankets. Jon had put him in the tent beside him, and allowed Jeyne to remain with him. She had kept the rest of the world from him while he slowly healed.

Theon saw his arms and legs thickening from eating regularly, and his face was beginning to fill out. He had noticed Jeyne's body change as well- her hair looked shinier, and she had begun to look like a girl again- a beautiful girl, but he kept that to himself. The tip of her nose was missing, but it didn't matter much when he looked into her shining eyes.

He liked her hot breath on his neck, he liked her tiny hands in his and most of all, Theon loved her. Theon kept it to himself though, afraid to say it in case he was to be executed by Jon. He expected it, Jon had always been more of Lord Eddard then Robb, and besides, Jon had never loved Theon Greyjoy, why should Theon Turncloak be any different?

He would miss his wife, even though they had never gotten around to consummating their marriage, or that Jeyne had been married to someone else under a false name. He heard her get up beside him, and felt the weight of the lumpy mattress shift as she rose. He opened his eyes, watching her as she dressed, memorizing each mark on her flesh trying to figure out which was before or after Ramsay. She looked back at him, and smiled.

"Theon." She said it so casually, as if she had been waking up next to him since she was a girl. Which she clearly wasn't, at least anymore.

"Jeyne," he murmured, trying to keep his mouth closed and prevent his ruined smile from destroying the moment. He wondered if his sister would buy him false teeth for his funeral. Jeyne began to brush her long hair, smiling at him while sitting across from his side of the bed on a stool. She raised her right leg, and nudged his forehead with her big toe. He batted it away softly, and she giggled_. I want to live in a world with just us_, he thought sadly.

They were interrupted when Asha entered their tent, wearing breeches and a plain tunic under a heavy cloak. She nodded at Jeyne, and approached Theon.

"Jon would like to speak with you." Her eyes said it all: today was the day Theon's head would roll.

Lord Commander Jon Snow

He sat pensively, thinking about Theon. He wished the execution felt like a good option, but it didn't. It felt awkward, the notion that Longclaw would take Greyjoy's life.

Asha came in to get him when Theon had been brought into the centre of camp. Jon got up, and beckoned for Ghost to follow him. Asha was silent for the long walk, which he had expected- no one wants to see their brother die a traitor.

He scanned the crowd around the clearing, noting Jeyne's absence- Jon briefly wondered if she even knew about what was going to happen to Theon. He turned to face the man in front him, the small, fragile thing Theon had become. His face had filled out, his hair thickening, but he was still sick. Theon's sunken eyes looked into Jon's, as Theon bowed.

The crowd was silent, waiting for Jon to speak. Jon gathered his thoughts as he opened his mouth, when a voice other than his tore through the air. Jeyne was in the clearing, in front of Theon trying to hide him behind her small frame. Angry voices rose, Lords threatening to hit her, maybe even rape and kill her. She just kept pleading with Jon through her eyes, trying to cover Theon, who was trying to calm her.

"Jeyne Poole, why have you done this?" asked Jon sharply, more so to get the rest of the army to shut up so he could hear Jeyne. She looked surprised that he was listening to her, but took the opportunity.

"He just needs to; he has been the one good thing that has happened to me in a while." Jon thought her answer had more weight to it than that, which she went on to prove.

"We are the last of Winterfell, Jon. Me, you and Theon. No one knows where your siblings are, Robb and all of our families are dead- we are the last of the pack. The pack doesn't kill itself, but rises again, stronger than before and you need Theon for it. You and he are so alike, if you would just see it." Jeyne was beginning to cry then, and Theon took her in his arms. He rested his head on her shoulder, strengthening her resolve. Jon felt the uncomfortable feeling in his stomach begin to gnaw at his insides.

" Jon, you would have done anything for Lord Eddard's approval- Theon wanted to please his father too, that's why he did what he did. You two are practically brothers, please, just don't do this." Jeyne's face was red, and Jon stepped towards her. Jon needed to reach, reach to his pack, and soon Jeyne's wet tears were on his neck. He felt tears in his eyes as well, pushing their way to the surface.

The surrounding Lords had remained quiet, watching the moment pensively.

"She isn't dead," Jeyne sobbed, "she can't be, she and Arya aren't." Jon wished he could share her beliefs, but he couldn't- he had been alive for far too long to believe his other siblings had survived years of war. Theon stood back from him and Jeyne, looking forlorn. Jon stepped back from Jeyne, and looked over to the other man.

"Theon, meet me in my tent please."

The pavilion erupted in noise, but Jon ignored it. Theon bowed his head towards him, put an arm around Jeyne, and went back to his tent. Asha turned to Jon and murmured:

"Was that wise?" too which Jon shook his head.

"Probably not, but I ever thought I would see the day Jeyne Poole would cry for Theon Greyjoy." Asha laughed, before responding.

"I never thought I would see the day you would defend my brother."

Author's Note

Hey everybody, loving the response to this Remember, reviews are love.


	3. Chapter 3

"**Staring at a sink of blood and crushed veneer"**

**Skinny Love- Bon Iver**

**Lord Theon Greyjoy**

They had ridden hard to the capital, and had arrived two days ago. He scrawled a quick message to Jeyne, then had spent the rest of the time planning with Jon. Their Navy was in grave disrepair, and the logistics of uniting the Navies of the great houses would be a nightmare.

Theon's room was humble, though that had more to do with the Crown's dire finances then for lack of hospitality. When he slept, he thought of how much he wanted to curl up next to Jeyne and tried not to notice his cold bed. Everything in King's Landing was a mess- he had never been to the capital and at this rate would never want to come back.

Theon was sitting at his desk looking over his plan for a navy when a squirrelly looking page rushed in. The boy was small and twitchy, with round brown eyes. He looked much younger than his supposed twelve years, but Theon didn't press the issue.

The boy had clearly run to his chambers, and was propping himself on the door frame. Theon waited patiently for the lad to tell him what was going on, tapping his index finger on the desk. The page looked up, and panting, shared his message.

"K-Kin.. J-Jon needs to.. see.. you in his chambers.. immed.. immediately." Theon nodded, and got out of his chair. He left the room swiftly, his long cloak swishing behind him.

He entered Jon's chambers without knocking, and saw Jon standing by his fireplace, looking completely sick. He was holding a piece of parchment, and Theon immediately knew it wasn't going to be the kind of news he preferred to receive. Theon approached Jon quietly, and the King looked up. Theon could read Jon's face as easily as he had read Robb's. Jon's eyes were wide, and his mouth pursed exactly like Robb's did (Theon had seen his lips quirk like that as well; he figured they had picked it up from Lady Catelyn).

Jon's face was fearful, and angry all at once- Theon could feel it in his gut. Theon gestured for the letter but Stark shook his head. Theon contemplated taking offense, but decided it to be a rather counter-productive move.

"It is a letter from Slaver's Bay." Jon said slowly, and Theon nodded, hoping Jon would just tell him what was about to happen. Jon stopped to collect himself, and Theon had to restrain himself from throttling Jon for the answer. Things were just a lot nicer when people told him what was going on quickly, so he could just deal with it.

"Ramsay got his army." Theon felt his stomach drop, and his entire brain came to a halt. Jon studied him quietly, watching his reaction.

"How quickly can we get our navy in order?" his King asked quietly, trying to hide the panic Theon could feel rising in both of them. Theon chewed his inner cheek nervously, quickly calculating when Ramsay would arrive versus when the navies of Westeros would be able to fight.

"Where is Ramsay now?" asked Theon hesitantly.

"He was in Slaver's Bay a moon ago, so he should be around Valyria." Jon replied, and Theon sighed in relief.

"Send a raven to every great house- in two months, all ships will be stationed along our Eastern ports." Theon thought that would be it, but Jon stopped him.

"How will we convince the Tyrells to help us?" Jon scowled: the Tyrells didn't like the way the war had played out for them.

"Offer them Violet! You were going to anyways." Theon snapped, exasperated by Jon's reluctance to betroth his daughter. Jon glared at him darkly, and snorted, without saying a word.

"It's what we need to do." Theon reached his hand out to touch Jon's arm, "For the North. For Robb."

Theon noticed the tears in Jon's eyes, and the bottom lip quiver. The only time he had seen Jon cry before was when Catelyn had hit him for some minor infraction when Lord Eddard was away. He remembered how Jon's face had slowly crumbled apart, each chunk of his emotional armour falling away. Theon was seeing it again now- Jon tried to avoid it, but he wasn't going to be able to do for much longer.

Theon stepped forward, and opened his arms to Jon, embracing him like Theon embraced his son. Jon was crying hard now, and Theon tried to murmur words of comfort- Old Nan's rhymes, Lord Eddard's war stories, even the myths of the Pyke his mother had told him as a babe.

Nothing worked.

**King Jon Stark**

He hadn't meant to cry- he hadn't meant to do any of this-being King, having babies, leaving the Watch- avenging Robb. The world was upon him, fighting him, practically trying to destroy him. Now Ramsay was returning with winter for him and the people he loved, and he couldn't deal with it anymore.

So he slumped into Theon, sobbing. Sobbing for his dead brother who was at the bottom of the Trident- a brother who lives in a wolf, a brother who he never got the chance to say goodbye to- Robb, Robb, his dear brother Robb. Robb, with auburn hair and bright blue skies, Jon really means eyes, but he doesn't care about details anymore.

Daenerys, his wife, his queen, his dragon- mother of his children, saviour of his soul. Her platinum locks matted with blood, her violet eyes accusing him, as the Bastard took her. Daenerys, sighing his name into his ear, Daenerys, screaming his name amid curses. Dany, Dany, his love, Dany.

His children, his only good decisions. Max, with white hair and greyed down purple eyes, the North embodied in a boy, the heir to the throne. His baby Violet, the loveliest girl he had seen, the likeness of her mother. Violet, trapped in a miserable marriage to a Tyrell. Max, impaled on the Bastard's sword. Blood, blood, all Jon sees is blood, the blood of the tide Ramsay intends to sail upon.

Ghost is nuzzling his hands now, comforting him, but it isn't _stopping_, his thoughts, they aren't _stopping _the Gods damn him to whichever hell exists.

His sisters, Sansa and Arya, happily married, safely married, and their children, being added to the Bastard's pile.

Jon's fear began to simmer in his belly, began to boil and if Theon hadn't held him down Jon would have burst. Jon was still crying though, gasping for the air that would calm him down.

"Theon," he eventually croaked, and Theon stepped back a bit to look at him. Jon looked into the eyes of a brother, an enemy, someone he loathed and loved, betrayer and friend of Robb. He looked into the eyes of the predator and prey, perpetrator and victim. A man with missing fingers and toes but a man with a wife and kids.

"I will kill them all." Jon spat, his tears falling harder than before.

"I swear, I will kill them all." He repeated, and Theon pulled him closer. He felt Theon's breath on his ear:

"I know, and I will do whatever it takes to help you."

**Theon Turncloak**

"Why did you let me go?" he knew he sounded rather indignant, but he couldn't help it. Jon was staring at him quietly over a cup of wine, and Theon was becoming impatient. It didn't seem to stir Jon closer to any sort of explanation, which irritated Theon even more. He was standing in the middle of the King's tent, feeling out of place among the rich furs and colours. He was a freakish thing, even if his features had begun to fill out, and he couldn't smile without reminding everyone of the dungeons of Dreadfort.

Jon continued to study him, Asha beside him. _I wonder if she offered to fuck him, not that he would take it_, thought Theon. He wondered why his life had suddenly become so important- couldn't Jon just chop his head off and attach a squid in its place?

Jon finally began to speak, quietly muttering before speaking aloud to everyone.

"I won't execute you," said the long-faced youth, and Theon looked at him in surprise. He hadn't even expected to make it this long, let alone avoid being put to death. He wondered when Jon had decided to save him, but concluded it to be wiser not to ask so many questions.

"I will do this under a few conditions- your sister Asha has agreed to make you a lord on the Iron Islands, and since you have already married Jeyne, your son will be Asha's heir. Secondly, you owe the North your life. Instead of making you pay in death, you are to be my Hand in the North. You shall serve the people, supervise the military until Robb's sons come of age." Jon paused, while Theon absorbed what he had heard.

_Robb has children_. Theon thanked whatever Gods made this possible- Robb's march was no longer in vain, and the Starks were no longer extinct. No one knew where Sansa or Arya were, and Theon didn't know what happened to Bran or Rickon after they had escaped. Jeyne had told Jon that Theon hadn't harmed them while he had still been recovering, and Jon seemed to believe her.

Theon was also astounded that Jon had created a new title for him: _Hand of the North_. It sounded prestigious, valiant and the complete opposite of the man it was created for. How was he to serve people who wanted his head on a spike, the people who wanted him to pay for unleashing the Bastard of Bolton upon them?

"I don't really understand, my lord." He immediately scolded himself for such a stupid response to a merciful offer, in comparison to what his crimes called to be done to him. Jon studied him though, looking at him for any sign of weakness or fear._ I must look too broken to kill, then._

Theon met the gaze, calmly returning it. Asha sat there and watched, probably confused- she had been raised on the tripe of "the Iron price", but on the mainland one earned respect through strength of character- _how long can you stare into your executioner's eyes before they become your friend?_ Theon knew he had what Asha didn't- he understood the North. He knew where they hunted, where they lived and where they sought their Gods. He had even known their Gods once, they had called to him at Winterfell.

This was his price for committing treason- to serve the people he had committed crimes against, and raise them to a vague interpretation of glory.

"Theon, I am giving this job to you because when Daenerys wins the war, she will need me in King's Landing. I shall be Lord of Winterfell, until Robb's heirs are of age, but you shall live up there and command the North in the name of the Starks." Jon dipped his head slightly, and Theon returned the gesture. Asha spoke up then:

"Your sons are heirs to the Iron Islands- every other year, they are to live with me to learn about their future duties, and their people. You have taken a wife who is lower born than you- fine, she seems nice, but as you learned, nice doesn't really do anything to help your cause, does it?" she smirked at the last part, and normally, Theon would have thought of hitting her, but he was too grateful to do anything such as that.

**Lord Commander Jon Snow**

Jon watched the shaky man before him absorb what he was being told. Theon looked happy, even ecstatic and Jon felt the throbbing in his belly ease a bit. He paused, and unsheathed Longclaw. Theon looked at the blade anxiously, but Asha had no reaction. Jon stood up, and walked towards his new Hand.

"Kneel." Theon obeyed, and fell down to one knee with a bowed head. Jon placed the sword on Greyjoy's left shoulder, and began the oath.

"Theon Greyjoy, do you swear to defend and uphold the laws of the North, even at the cost of your life?" asked Jon, and Theon nodded his head.

"Do you vow to bring the Bastard of Bolton to justice, at the possible cost of your life?" The immediate response was a nod, and Jon removed the blade.

"Rise, Lord Theon Greyjoy, Hand of the North, and Lord on the Pyke." Jon searched Theon's eyes for the change, and he saw it. Theon seemed happier and strangely, so did Jon.

"Thank you, Jon." Theon's smile returned and Jon felt his eyes welling. Robb had been ripped from him, along with Bran and Arya and Rickon, and Gods above Sansa. Theon and Jeyne were the only ones left, but he had never been close with Jeyne.

"It's fine, Theon." Jon smiled, and put his hand on Theon's shoulder, allowing himself to smile once during this horrible war.

A/N : I am sorry this update took so long. Please read and review :D


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